


143 - It's Ya Birthday!

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 10:29:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17405249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompts “Going to the beach with Van and going in the arcades and eating ice cream and taking loads of pictures and flUFF” and “a fic about how van would celebrate your birthday?? i feel like he’d go all out and be the romantic bastard he is” Note: Also, I have done a carnival date before. Therefore, this one deviates from the prompt just a little.





	143 - It's Ya Birthday!

Nothing good could come of Van McCann keeping secrets. Firstly, he was horrible at it. Secondly, what could he possibly have to hide? You watched in suspicion as he held phone conversations behind closed doors and hesitated before answering questions about your birthday. Obviously then, he was up to something. If you had asked him outright, he would have shifted from foot to foot, unable to stand still. He'd not make eye contact, grin away, and shrug before changing the subject. Instead of that, you let him have his secret and hoped that if it did have something to do with your birthday, that it would be lowkey.

It was two weeks before your birthday when he started to ask you what you wanted to do. "Nothing," you replied, like you always did. He threw his head back dramatically.

"Babe! We ain't doing nothing for your birthday. Birthdays are special. Not everyone gets to be born, you know?"

"What? That doesn't… It's my birthday, Van. If I don't want to have a party then we're not having a party,"

"Didn't say we had to have a party. Can I just take you somewhere? Just us?"

"Do you swear to fucking God it will just be us?" you asked, warning him with a look on your face that meant business. He smirked and nodded.

"Cross my fuckin' heart, babe."

…

The secret keeping went on, and it became clear that your birthday was definitely involved. How a date for only you and Van required so many phone calls was beyond you, and therefore it made you anxious. When he appeared in the kitchen after half an hour on the phone, you narrowed your eyes at him in question.

"What?" he asked, lighting a cigarette and sitting at the table.

"You're planning something when you promised it would be just us,"

"I don't know what you're talkin' about,"

"Van. You said. I will freak out if there is a stupid surprise party or anything like that. I will break up with you,"

"So dramatic," he whispered at you, laughing.

…

On the day of your birthday, you woke up to a room filled with flowers. They smelled clean and fresh, and the act made you all gooey inside. In the kitchen you sat as Van cooked uneven pancakes and brewed perfect tea. He watched you eat, and you let him, and it was comfortable.

After a lunch date with your best friend, you returned home in the late afternoon.

"What's the plan?" you asked Van, throwing yourself down on the bed next to him. He was leaning against the headboard, strumming at his guitar and writing in a notebook.

"The plan is a surprise," he replied.

"Van…" you warned. He rolled his eyes.

"Get dressed. Don't matter what you wear. It will be just us," he said with a smirk. He was mocking you.

"Will any other human see me?" He nodded. "Will I want to take photos of myself at any point?" He laughed, and made a half shrug half nod movement. "Dress or jeans?"

"Jeans. But like, ones you can roll up maybe?"

You groaned at the lack of detail you were getting. Van stayed on the bed and watched as you changed into cut-off jeans and a velvet shirt. Denim jacket and clean lace up sneakers. You stood in front of Van and held your hands out, presenting yourself. He nodded and gave you the thumbs up.

"Gonna go do my makeup," you said, walking from the room. He jumped up and followed.

"Can I come?"

Van sat on the bathroom counter and picked up different items as you used them. You washed your face and flicked water at him. Next, skin prep, and you let him use some of your good moisturiser. His eyes closed as he rubbed it into his skin. Adorable.

"Why do you do that first?" he asked as you started to blend eyeshadow, before any foundation touched your skin.

"I don't know. Habit, maybe. Also, easier to clean up the powder and stuff this way."

Van's attention became entirely focused on you as you slowly drew wings of liquid liner across your eyes. His eyebrows came together, like he was concentrating too. When you were done and stood up straight, assessing the result, he made a 'huh' sound. You looked at him.

"How'd you get them so even?"

"They're even?!" you beamed. He nodded. "They aren't always. This is kind of a miracle,"

"A birthday miracle," he agreed.

You went hard with the new shimmery highlighter your best friend got you. You pressed some onto your finger and ran it along Van's cheekbones. You used the softest, fluffiest brush you had to blend it, dotting his nose before moving away. He squirmed and smiled.

"Like that?" you asked, laughing.

"Yes. Feels good," he replied and looked at himself in the mirror. "This is my vibe." You laughed again.

You were ready to go and could feel Van's excitement growing. He took your hand and led you out to the car. As he drove, you couldn't figure out where he was heading. It was an unfamiliar city; still new to you. You'd only called it home for a couple of weeks.

The ocean came into view, and Van drove along the coastline. The sun was setting and the air was still warm. You wound down a window and let your hand move against the force of the wind. Music loud and hair whipping around, Van bit his bottom lip as he watched you.

The colourful glow of the Ferris wheel gave away the surprise. Van was taking you to the boardwalk carnival. You grinned wide at him. You loved being close to the water, and you loved the arcade games and the ice cream and nostalgic shine everything had. Parked in the corner of the lot, you smoked a little dope before getting out. If everything was glowing and beautiful before, oh man, was it all kinds of spectacular after.

The date started like all the others happening on the boardwalk that night. One half of the couple skipping from place to place, bursting with joy. The other half casually following along, maintaining their mystique with modulated expressions, but no less filled with joy than their partner. Van stuck his tongue out and let you watch the fairy floss melt onto it. The kiss after tasted sugary.

The arcade games were lined up side by side. You wrapped your arms around Van and watched him play an old Pac-Man machine. When it provided no challenge, Van got cocky. He played Street Fighter and won that. Then, in a Star Wars game, he dramatically lost. "What?!" he yelled, voice high pitched. He looked at you in disbelief. Cackling with laughter, you had caught the whole thing in a Snapchat video sent to Benji. You saved it for future use too. When it was your turn, you won Tekken and Mortal Combat. The games of your childhood.

"Why do you think they haven't got newer ones?" Van asked. The boardwalk carnival didn't even exist in the 90s. The games were an anachronism.

"Not sure. Love it though," you replied, attention more focused on Primal Rage than Van's verbal stream of consciousness. He continued to chatter from beside you, his hand reaching out and touching your shoulder, arm or hair every few minutes.

You sat sidesaddle on a merry-go-round that sparkled and reminded you of The Lost Boys. Van stood next to you, holding the pole, and leaving kisses on your neck. You were getting dizzy and it was hard to tell if it was because of the spinning or the dope or the love.

"Are you having a good birthday?" Van asked as he helped you climb down from the merry-go-round. With his popped collar and sharp cheekbones, he could have been in David's teen vampire cult. You nodded. "See? Should let me do things more often,"

"Maybe,"

"Definitely. S'not over yet. Got a thing planned. Come on." Van walked backwards in front of you. The crowd moved around him, like people avoiding salesmen on the streets. 

"Where are we going?"

"You know how you always wonder what behind the scenes is like? Like, if the ghost ride actors hang around in costume? All that stuff?" You nodded and knew where it was going. "Gonna take you to see!"

"Backstage?"

"Yeah! 'Cause, like, I know this guy that works at this club in the city we've played at a couple of times, right, and he does some stuff here too. Theatre stuff, I guess." Van turned to walk the right way. "Ha! Speak of the devil!" You turned to where Van was looking. There was a guy literally dressed as a comical version of Satan. When you looked back at Van his mouth was open in a smile, waiting for you to laugh at his joke. "Get it?!" You laughed and nodded. Van shook the guy's hand and they pulled each other into a hug. "Mate, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Tim." Van was proud of you, and it was evident every time he introduced you to someone.

"Happy birthday, Y/N!" Tim said. His name was Tim. A normal, average, vanilla, basic name. Tim dressed as the devil. Tim, eyes shimmering with red glitter under the carnival lights.

"Thank you," you replied with a smile. 

Van held an arm around your waist as you both followed Tim through some gates and outdoor hallways. As the boys caught up, it filled you with warm fuzzies to listen to Van update his friend about how good Catfish were doing. How in love with his life he was. How beautiful he thought you were. "And this one. We'll get married soon," Van said to Tim, looking at you with a grin that meant he was only half joking.

"You'll make beautiful babies," Tim replied with a wink.

It was probably a good thing that the dope had mostly worn off. You watched people walk through the haunted house from behind two-way mirrors. They screamed as the actors dressed as monsters appeared from nowhere. Nowhere, though, was where you were. They gave you the thumbs up as they walked out onto their strange stage. A girl from the circus taught you how to hula multiple hoops at once. Van clapped, and you bowed graciously. After, you laughed at the photos he took of you. Controlling the Ferris wheel was easier than you thought. Sideshow games were, in fact, only partially rigged. You committed to memory the tips on how to win them. A shipping container filled with cheap prizes was more unsettling than it should have been. A makeup artist drew a sparkly love heart on your left cheek, just under your eye. Van declined but when she brought out a fluffy brush he agreed to a touch up of his highlighter. "Thought I saw a shimmer!" she laughed.

As you said thank you and goodnight to Tim, hugging him, you could hear the waves of the ocean near you. It was late, and the boardwalk was clearing of people. It gave room for the sea to make a sound. You cuddled into Van's side as he directed you out of a different entry/exit than the one you came in. He was warm, and you were happy, so you didn't ask questions. The way out lead to the street, which was busy with people. Then, steps down to the beach. Van stopped and let you take off your shoes and roll your jeans up. You understood the instruction given earlier in the night then.

The sand was cold and uneven and you took large steps like you were walking across the surface of the moon. Van took catlike steps. How he was so graceful was beyond you. On the compacted wet sand, where it was easier to walk, you held hands. The moon was almost full, and there were only a few people still on the beach.

"I have to tell you something… About your birthday," Van said.

"Is it that mum is planning a surprise party?" you asked. He nodded. "Yeah… Amy told me today,"

"What a snitch!"

"Van… You just… Anyway. Yeah. Horrible,"

"I told her that you wouldn't like it but she said she knows you better than I do," he said. Obviously, that was what he wanted to actually tell you. You could hear the hurt in his voice.

"She doesn't. Not anymore. Nobody knows me better than you," you reassured him. He looked at you carefully, then nodded. "I think tonight has proved that very much,"

"This was good then? Not too much?"

"Oh, it was a lot! Really. But, it was good. Perfect."

Van stopped walking and held out his arms for a hug. You stepped to him and let him bundle you up. The air smelled of salt, and faintly of the boardwalk's junk food. There was only the sound of the crashing waves, and then Van sighing deeply.

"Happy birthday," he said. You snaked your arms under his jacket. Warmer. Safer. Closer.


End file.
